Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Dumb things read at work
Some things I've come across proofreading books at work:
From a steaming pile of dog shit that purports to teach college freshmen how to "read" pop-culture texts but mostly does stuff like damn "Magnolia" for not offering solutions to how men can fully embrace the "new masculinity" or how "Being John Malkovich" doesn't do enough to fully endorse Cameron Diaz' and Catherine Keener's pseudo-lesbian romance. This book makes my groin ache more than it usually does, and makes me think my political sympathies should maybe be shifted toward the colossally powerful evil that runs the world rather than the shitty, ineffectual morons I've been throwing my votes toward since I was 18. Adults don't expect fictional characters in artworks to solve the world's minor problems, if indeed they are problems, I hope. Children already have this shit figured out. Get a fucking life. Anyway, here's an excerpt from this piece of garbage (from the chapter on how to read movies and music, as if they were the same thing):
"When I listen to Joss Stone on my Ipod, this says something very different about me, my mood, and how I view myself in the world than when I blast the pulsating alt beat of Audioslave, for instance."
I don't know what this sentence means, except that it reminds me of a really bad television commercial where a white man says "homey" and "that's off the hook." What different something is it saying about you, for christ's sweet tittyfucking sake? That you're willing to trade one empty corporate simulacrum of experience for another? I know what I'm about to say is not popular with many people I know, but I really don't give a fuck about the environment or saving the planet or recycling or any of that shit. We had a good run and we fucked it up. The world will still go on, believe me. We won't. That's alright. Everything has to end sometime. Yet I still weep when I think of the strong, majestic, eagle-of-freedom-worthy trees that were killed to bring the world this motherfucking piece of cock-ass-bullshit. Maybe I'm overreacting. Fuck that. There's no "maybe" in it. This book is inconsequential, and so is my stupid rant. But, goddammit, everyfuckingthing is becoming inconsequential and I am tired of it. Let's have some good times and piss on everything else. Hedonism now! Epicurean diets and rock and roll for all! Solutions for none! Let Sherlock Holmes have his solutions and leave me to my two bottles of wine and Dinosaur Jr albums!
Which is why I am glad to present this next sentence, from a food science book:
"Hollandaise is the aristocrat of sauces."
That's what I'm trying to find, every day. Glorious stupidity, not deadly stupidity, not mediocrity. I want aristocrats of sauces!
Happy Valentine's day! Save the dolphins! Don't blame me, I voted for a more coherent blog!